Pink Taffeta
by inkstainedfingers97
Summary: "I'm glad Van Pelt and Rigsby found their way back to each other in the end. I just wish Van Pelt had decided to change the color scheme of the wedding to something different from the one she planned with O'Loughlin," Lisbon sighed. "Then at least I wouldn't still be stuck in that God awful bridesmaid's dress." AU after 3x24, Strawberries and Cream.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Pink Taffeta

Rating: T

Spoilers: Goes AU after 3x24, Strawberries and Cream.

Disclaimer: This is for fun and no money.

A/N: Hello, Mentalist friends! I needed some fluff in my life and also to write something short to relieve my brain from complex plotting challenges I keep tangling myself up in, so I wrote this bit of silliness to fit the bill. This story goes AU after Strawberries and Cream. Hopefully you can get the gist from context clues, but the basic premise is that Timothy Carter was Red John, Jane went through the trial and was acquitted, Hightower is restored to her old job, and Rigsby and Van Pelt get back together not long after Van Pelt shoots O'Loughlin. But the details really aren't important, it's all just an excuse to put Lisbon back in the pink dress. :) This is part 1 of 2 chapters total. Hope you like it!

xxx

"So _then_ , I was like…duh! It's _obviously_ 'Wicked Watermelon!" Iris, Van Pelt's cousin, tittered at the punchline to her own story. Lisbon thought it might have had something to do with lipstick. Or possibly nail polish.

Lisbon, perched on a stool next to her at the bar, fixed a smile on her face and nodded to display her appreciation for Iris's adventures in lipstick shopping. Or maybe it had been a story about her boyfriend? And maybe there had been something to do with a Chihuahua? Lisbon took a long pull from her glass of wine and wondered when, exactly, she'd entered this particular circle of hell.

She glanced over at Van Pelt, standing with a group her college friends with a "Bride to Be" sash crossing her chest, beaming. She was positively glowing—the picture of a happy bride. Lisbon was glad to see her so happy after the year she'd had—they'd all had, really, she thought, shifting her left shoulder as an uncomfortable twinge shot through it. But Van Pelt had borne the worst of it, in some ways. Lisbon was happy that Van Pelt had found healing and happiness in the end. And Lisbon was determined to be there for her, to support her friend and colleague, to make sure that she knew Lisbon had her back, come what may.

She just wished she could have, you know, shown her support in some way, any way, other than agreeing to be a bridesmaid and having to attend this God forsaken event known as the bachelorette party. She would have happily taken another bullet if it would have given her an excuse to avoid this hellhole disguised as a country western themed bar. She took another fortifying sip of wine and eyed the exit.

"Ooh, there's Yolanda!" Iris squealed, far too close to Lisbon's ear. She waved at a statuesque young woman a couple years older than Van Pelt, with Van Pelt's striking red hair. She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "She's psychic, you know."

"You don't say," Lisbon muttered into her wine. Great. Just what she needed. Another person trying to cold read her in her supposed down time. She'd thought one of the few perks of attending functions like this would be that she wouldn't have to deal with that sort of crap for a few hours.

Yolanda came to join them and kissed Iris on the cheek. "Hi, cuz," she greeted her.

"Yolanda, I was just telling Teresa about your psychic powers," Iris said. She turned to Lisbon excitedly and seized her wrist. "Let's have Yolanda tell our fortunes!"

"Oh, no, really," Lisbon protested, drawing away. But before she could explain to Iris and Yolanda that literally the last thing in the world that she wanted right now was to have her fortune told, her phone rang. Thank God.

"Excuse me," she said, waving the ringing phone at them. "I've got to take this."

She stepped away from the chattering cousins and checked the display. Jane. She perked up. Maybe someone had been murdered, she thought hopefully. That would be a perfectly valid excuse to get out of what Iris had promised would be a super fun game of "Manhunt" that was apparently scheduled for later in the evening. Lisbon didn't know exactly what the game involved, but she was certain she wanted no part of it.

She hit send. "Hey, Jane," she said, striving for her usual brusque and professional demeanor. It was somewhat undermined by the sound of Bruno Mars playing in the background. And possibly by that last glass of wine. She blinked to clear her vision and straightened. "What's up? Did we catch a case?"

"No, nothing like that," Jane said from the other end of the line. "I'm just using you as an excuse to take a time out from the bachelor party. Rigby's friends have all been playing this horrendous game called 'flip cup' for the past forty-five minutes. It's some kind of relay game with plastic cups and beer."

"I know how to play flip cup, Jane," Lisbon said, rolling her eyes.

"Really?" Jane said, intrigued. "I'd like to hear about that sometime."

"I did go to college, Jane," Lisbon reminded him. "There's not much to tell."

"Oh," Jane said, sounding disappointed. "Well, anyway, they keep roaring and bumping chests with one another when they get to the end of each relay. It's very tiresome. And," he said, aggrieved, "I haven't been able to find anything to make a single cup of tea."

A giggle escaped her at that. She couldn't help it. "You haven't been able to find any tea at a bachelor party? Shocking."

Jane paused. "Are you drunk?"

"No," she said, automatically and untruthfully.

"Liar," Jane said. "I can hear it in your voice." He sounded amused. "How many glasses of wine have you had? No, let me guess. Four?"

"Five," she admitted petulantly. She didn't bother to ask him how he'd known she was drinking wine.

She could hear the grin in his voice. "You wild woman, you."

"It's not my fault," she protested weakly. "I didn't mean to drink that much. It was self-defense."

He was still laughing at her. "Self-defense?"

"Yes. I needed the wine to prevent my head from exploding from listening to one more story about handbags or Zumba classes," she said stoutly.

"Ah. Perfectly understandable, then."

Van Pelt was talking to Yolanda and Iris now. The three of them waved at her to come join them. Lisbon groaned inwardly and pasted a smile on her face as she waved back, signaling she would re-join them in a moment. "Listen, I gotta go. Have fun playing flip cup."

"Lisbon, wait—"

She hung up, and went to face her fate.

Xxx

Twenty minutes later, she escaped the clutches of Iris and Yolanda and made her way back to the bar while the rest of the women played 'Pin the kiss on Ryan Gosling.' She sat down at the bar with a sigh of relief.

An attractive young man in a black t-shirt smiled at her from behind the bar. "Can I get you anything?"

"Yes, could I have a glass of water, please?" she said.

He gave her a slow, lazy smile. "Sure thing."

She smiled back gratefully. "Thanks."

His smile widened. "Any time." She idly watched the muscles in his forearms flex as he poured her a glass of water. He really was extremely attractive, she thought wistfully. Somewhere between five and ten years too young for her, of course, but surely there was no harm in looking, right?

He pushed the glass of water towards her. "Here you go."

"You are a prince among men," she said, toasting him with her water glass and drinking greedily.

He rested those attractive forearms on the bar and leaned towards her. "You can call me Prince Mark, then." He shook his head, laughing at himself when he realized how cheesy that sounded. "Or just Mark. That's what everyone else calls me. Because that's my name."

"Teresa," Lisbon said, gesturing to herself with her half-drained glass of water. "Pleased to meet you, Mark."

He smiled at her again. "The pleasure is all mine, Teresa."

Was he actually hitting on her? Lisbon thought, the idea floating up slowly as though from the bottom of a pond comprised of several gallons of white wine. She smiled hesitantly back at him, confused and flattered. No, she thought cynically. He'd probably tapped into the whole 'flirting with older women' thing as a surefire way to secure bigger tips. Although, she thought, putting her own elbows on the bar and letting her smile go a bit wider, it was definitely working for him.

"Teresa!" Iris was back, looking between her and Mark with an accusing expression on her face. "No fair getting a head start on Manhunt without us!" She sized Mark up with a measuring glance. "And he's probably good for three whole categories!" she pouted.

Mark quirked his eyebrows at Lisbon. "Manhunt?"

"Don't ask," Lisbon advised. "It's some kind of party game."

He laughed. "Bachelorette party, right? I'm game." He leaned closer to her. "So which categories am I good for?"

"Oh, uh…" Lisbon stared at his mouth. "I have no idea."

"Ah," a familiar voice interrupted. "There you are, darling." A familiar hand rested itself on her waist, and then a familiar figure stepped close to her, invading her personal space.

"Jane!" She straightened in surprise. Mark subtly inched away. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to pick you up, of course," Jane said affably. "I could tell you'd had a few too many when we spoke on the phone earlier, so I thought I would come retrieve you so you wouldn't have to worry about drinking and driving."

"I was going to take a cab home," Lisbon protested.

"Well, there's no need now, is there?" he pointed out reasonably.

"What about you?" she accused. "Haven't you been playing flip cup?"

He looked pained. "Teresa, please. What do you take me for?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, unimpressed. "What about the rest of the night? Do you swear you haven't been drinking?"

"Of course not," Jane said, affronted. "I wouldn't drink and drive. You know I wouldn't."

She unbent a little. "Okay."

Iris looked back and forth between them. "Is that your _boyfriend_?" she asked with keen interest.

"No," Lisbon said quickly, avoiding looking at Mark. "Just my chauffeur. Apparently."

Iris eyed Jane critically. "He's definitely good for two categories. Can I borrow him for my list?"

"Sure," Lisbon said generously. "Have at him." She smirked at Jane, who shot her a betrayed look.

"Teresa, we really should be going," Jane said meaningfully.

"I can't go," Lisbon said stubbornly, though she'd been longing to leave for the past hour. "I have to stay here to support Van Pelt."

Jane rolled his eyes. "I'm sure she won't mind. Come on, we'll go say good-bye." He took her by the hand and dragged her away from the bar.

"I have to pay my bill," she protested.

Jane stopped and returned to the bar. He slapped down a hundred dollar bill on the counter. "That cover it, Mark?"

"Yeah," Mark said, sounding disgruntled.

"Keep the change," Jane said.

Lisbon looked at him, wide-eyed. "You know Mark?"

"He's wearing a name tag, Teresa," Jane said patiently. He took her by the elbow and steered her away from the bar. "Say good-bye to Mark now."

Lisbon waved to Mark wistfully. "Bye, Mark." Mark waved back, giving her a wry smile in return. Oh, well. It had been nice when it lasted. She glared at Jane as he ushered her to the other side of the bar. "Mark and me were bonding, you know," she told him with a pout. "Why'd you have to come along and ruin it?"

"He's too young for you," Jane said, continuing to shepherd her along.

"So? He liked me," Lisbon insisted. "I could tell."

"Of course he did," Jane responded, in a tone that managed to be both soothing and condescending at the same time.

She smacked him on the chest. "Don't patronize me. He _did_ like me. We could have had beautiful martini babies if you hadn't interfered."

"Martini babies?" Jane said, amused.

"Yeah," she leaned her head on Jane's shoulder, suddenly feeling very sleepy. "Shaken, not stirred."

"You're not supposed to shake babies," he pointed out. "It's a very bad thing to do."

"Oh, yeah," she remembered. She deflated. "I guess you're right."

Jane chuckled. "You're an adorable drunk, did you know that?"

She straightened at that. "What would you know about it? Mark woulda adored me, I bet, if I let him. You don't adore anybody."

He raised his eyebrows. "How do you know?"

She blinked at him owlishly, confused. But before she could gather her wits about her, Jane maneuvered her past the rest of the throng of women waiting to kiss the Ryan Duckling poster and over to Van Pelt's side.

"Jane!" Van Pelt said in surprise. She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "What are you doing here?" Then she frowned. "Is Rigsby okay?"

"Right as rain," Jane assured her. "I just came to pick up Lisbon."

"Oh, you're leaving?" Van Pelt said to Lisbon, disappointed.

"Oh," Lisbon said, flustered. "Yeah. I guess so." How humiliating. She didn't want to tell Van Pelt she was pooping out before midnight because she'd gotten wasted on five glasses of wine.

"My fault," Jane said to Van Pelt smoothly. "I promised Rigsby I would bail out his friend, what's his name—"

"Derek?" Van Pelt said, alarmed. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine," Jane said. "Just needs to sleep it off. Anyway, he got a little rowdy, and I didn't want Rigsby to have to leave his own party to deal with it. I thought Lisbon could help me smooth things over with the local PD."

"Oh, my gosh, thank you so much," Van Pelt said to Lisbon, looking guilt-stricken. "I'm so sorry to cut your night short to deal with one of Rigsby's idiot friends."

"Not a problem," Lisbon said, with as much dignity as possible.

Van Pelt put her arms around her and gave her a squeeze. "Thank you so much for coming. It means a lot."

Lisbon squeezed back. "Wouldn't have missed it," she said with as much sincerity as she could muster. Jane mouthed 'Liar' at her. She stuck her tongue out at him behind Van Pelt's back.

The good-byes dealt with, Lisbon allowed Jane to escort her from the bar.

Xxx

"Do we really have to bail out Rigsby's friend?" Lisbon asked with dread. She really didn't feel like walking into Sacramento County lockup with five glasses of wine under her belt to spring one of Rigsby's meathead friends from the drunk tank.

"Relax," Jane said as he drove through the quiet streets of Sacramento. "I bailed him out two hours ago. He's sleeping it off a room below the flip cup tournament."

"If you'd had to get him, too, you'd be more like a cab driver than my own personal chauffeur," Lisbon mused.

"Your chauffeur, huh? Does that mean I should get one of those funny hats?"

She snorted. "You should definitely get a hat. I can start calling you Jeeves. But if you really want to be a good chauffeur, you should get a better car."

"I like this car," he protested. "She's served me well over the years."

"Yeah, all those flat tires and breakdowns in the middle of nowhere…"

"Hey! Why are you being mean to me when I so chivalrously came to rescue you?"

"Oh, yeah, really chivalrous, rescuing me from a conversation with a hot guy," Lisbon said, rolling her eyes. "Thanks a lot." Remembering something, she narrowed her eyes. "What was with that 'darling' stuff, anyway?"

"'Darling' stuff?"

"Before. At the bar," she clarified. "You called me 'darling.'"

Jane feigned ignorance. "Did I?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "You did." It wasn't like Jane had never pretended they were a couple before. But he usually did it on a case, for a specific purpose. Well, and to annoy her. But they hadn't been on a case. So there was no reason to pretend. Unless it was just to annoy her. Which was possible. But she didn't think that was right. She thought maybe there had been another reason. She leaned her head against the passenger side window. Maybe when her head stopped swimming she would be able to figure it out.

"Here we are!" Jane said hastily, pulling up in front of her apartment. "Home sweet home."

Lisbon blinked and straightened. "Oh." She felt reluctant to leave Jane's terrible car for some reason. She sighed and put her hand on the door handle. "Guess I'll see you later, then."

"Not so fast." Jane hopped out of the car and dashed around the front of the car to open the door for her.

She stared up at him, her mouth agape. "What're you doing?"

He took her by the hand and pulled her out of the car. "I'm escorting you to your door."

"You don't need to walk me to my door," she protested. "I'm not _that_ drunk, Jane. I can walk under my own power."

He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and guided her up the walkway leading to the front door of her apartment. "I'm not walking you to your door. I'm walking with you to your door, so that I can come inside."

She stopped dead in the middle of the walkway. "You're coming inside?"

"Lisbon, it's been hours," he said pathetically, resuming his efforts to steer her up the walkway. "I need tea."

"What if I don't have any tea?" she challenged him. But she let him steer her up the walkway anyway.

"You do," he said confidently. They reached the front door and he took her keys from her.

She scrunched up her nose. "How do you know?"

"You bought it for me recently," he said, unlocking the door. "To celebrate my acquittal. Just in case I stopped by sometime."

"You never stop by," she said, half petulant, half accusing.

He met her gaze. "I'm stopping by now." The way he said it seemed important, somehow, but her wine-soaked brain was having difficulty processing the significance. He opened the door and gestured for her to precede him into the apartment.

"Fine," she huffed, marching into her apartment (somewhat unsteadily). She kicked her shoes off. Ah. That was much better. "But you're making it yourself."

"Certainly, my dear." He wandered into the kitchen and started rummaging through her cupboards. Bastard of course knew exactly where she kept the tea that she'd just bought. _Not_ for him, whatever the walking ego might say. She just…thought she might like to have some on hand. In case she needed it to help her sleep at night. Or something. Even though it did taste like tree bark and why any reasonable person would prefer it to coffee she had no earthly idea-

"Aw, Lisbon," Jane said, delighted. "You have all my favorites."

"I just bought a sampler," Lisbon defended, going to sit down at the kitchen counter and watch him make his tea. "It came with all kinds." Okay, that fancy tea place Jane liked had let her customize the selection, but technically, it wasn't a lie.

"Do you want some?" he offered.

She made a face before she could help herself. "I'm not really in the mood for tea at the moment." In fact, she had really never been in the mood for tea once in her nearly four decades on this planet. She only drank it when Jane made it for her, usually under duress.

"I'll get you a glass of water, then," he decided. He glanced up at her. "You should go put on your jammies. I know you're dying to get out of that dress. Though you do look quite fetching in it, I must say."

It wasn't the dress she was dying to get out of but the uncomfortable bra that went with it. Ha. So there. Jane didn't know everything, no matter what he thought. Smug at the thought, she decided not to argue. She also decided to ignore the pleased little flutter in her belly at Jane's apparently offhand remark that she looked 'fetching.' "Mm-kay," she said, slipping off the kitchen stool.

She went upstairs and changed into her favorite Bears jersey, then padded back downstairs to find Jane ensconced on her couch, tea in hand. He looked decidedly content.

She flopped down on the couch next to him and accepted the glass of water he handed her. "I'm hungry," she announced.

"Mm." Jane blew on the surface of his tea. "What do you propose we do about that?"

"I want pizza," she informed him.

He smiled into his tea. "Well, then. Pizza you shall have."

"Good," Lisbon said, satisfied.

He cast her a sidelong glance. "I suppose I'm buying?"

"It's the least you can do after inviting yourself in to drink my tea," she told him.

He hid a smile. "Touché, my dear. What kind do you want?"

"You have to ask?" she smirked.

"No. I just thought I would, for the sake of politeness."

"Ha. Cause you're normally so worried about observing social norms."

"Okay, fine," he said. He heaved a put upon sigh. "One pepperoni pizza with extra cheese, coming right up."

Half an hour later, Lisbon was happily devouring her pepperoni pizza, and Jane was on his second cup of tea.

"I'm glad things are finally working out for Rigsby and Van Pelt," Jane said, risking Lisbon's wrath and taking a slice of pizza for himself.

"Me, too," Lisbon said, around a mouthful of pizza. "I still can't believe Hightower signed off on the change of policy about relationships between co-workers after getting her old job back."

"I can," Jane said, taking a bite of his own. "Think about it. If she hadn't forced Rigsby and Van Pelt to split up, Van Pelt would never have started dating O'Loughlin in the first place. And if she and O'Loughlin hadn't gotten engaged, O'Loughlin would never have had the opportunity to track Hightower down through Grace and try to kill her and her children. Not to mention shooting you in the arm. If that chain of events isn't enough to change someone's perspective about petty bureaucratic regulations, I don't know what is."

"I suppose you're right," Lisbon acknowledged. "In any case, I'm glad Van Pelt and Rigsby found their way back to each other in the end." She sighed. "I just wish Van Pelt had decided to change the color scheme of the wedding to something different from the one she planned with O'Loughlin. Then at least I wouldn't still be stuck in that God awful bridesmaid's dress."

"I did wonder at that," Jane commented. "Why didn't they change it? It seems like the sort of thing Grace would think was unlucky. Unless it was a kind of final 'screw you' to O'Loughlin's memory."

Lisbon shook her head. "They'd already bought the decorations and stuff for the wedding with O'Loughlin, so they decided to re-use as much of it as possible to save money. They want to save up to put a down payment on a house."

"Very practical."

"I guess," Lisbon said without enthusiasm. Stupid pink dress.

He nudged her in the side. "Cheer up. It'll be fun. And despite Van Pelt's track record, there's very little chance that the groom will turn out to be a murdering psychopath at the last minute."

Lisbon snorted. "There is that. And now that Red John is out of the picture, we won't need to worry about any other murderers coming out of the woodwork at the event itself. We can actually relax for a change."

"Exactly," Jane said. "You can defend yourself from Iris and her ilk with as much wine as you want to without worrying about needing to chase down any serial killers through the reception hall." He finished his slice of pizza. "Speaking of which, do you want to carpool to the wedding with me?"

"Oh—I don't know," Lisbon said, hesitating. "I was going to spend the night in Napa."

"Me, too," Jane said quickly. "I got a room at the hotel where they're holding the reception. It's a bit far to drive back after an evening of revelry."

"I have to be there pretty early," Lisbon said doubtfully. "As part of the bridal party, and everything."

"I don't mind that," Jane said. "I'm happy to go early. I'm sure Rigsby won't mind if I hang out with him and the rest of the groomsmen while you womenfolk spend the afternoon beautifying yourselves. Besides, I can use the time to practice my speech."

She shook her head. "I can't believe they asked you to officiate. Are you sure this will be legal?"

"I told you, I'm a registered officiant," Jane said, exasperated.

"I know. I'm just not sure I believe you."

"Don't fret, Teresa. It will all be perfectly legal. Now, do you want to go to the wedding with me or not?"

"Fine," she conceded. "But we're taking my car."

"Very well." He closed up the pizza box. "Now that all that's settled, why don't you let me clean this stuff up while you get ready for bed?"

"You don't have to do that, Jane," Lisbon protested, though the wine was catching up with her again now that her stomach was full. She felt decidedly sleepy. She eyed the mess they'd made of the coffee table without enthusiasm. "I'll clean it up in the morning."

"Nonsense, I'll take care of it," Jane said. He stood and pulled her to her feet. He gave her a little push in the direction of the stairs. "Go on."

She went. She went to the bathroom and went through her usual night time routine, then retired to the bedroom and snuggled under the covers.

"Knock, knock," a soft voice said from the hallway.

Lisbon lifted her head from the pillow. "Jane?"

Jane came in, carrying a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. "I thought you should have these for when you wake up in the morning," he explained, crossing to the bed and setting them down on the bedside table.

She bit her lip, touched by the gesture. "Thanks."

He pulled the comforter up over her shoulders, then—God, had he just stroked her hair? It felt amazing. Lisbon watched him, wide-eyed. Then he did something even more shocking. He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead.

"Good night, Teresa," he said, stroking her hair once more. "Sweet dreams."

She already felt like she was dreaming. One of the better dreams she'd had in a while, actually. "Good night, Jane," she managed.

He straightened up. "I'll lock the door on my way out."

"'kay." Sleep pulled at her. She heard him move quietly to the door. "Jane?" she said sleepily.

He paused at the door. "Yes?"

"Thanks for rescuing me."

She didn't see his smile in the darkness. "Anytime, my dear."


	2. Chapter 2

"Ready to walk down the aisle?"

Lisbon turned to see a tall, good-looking man smiling at her and holding out his arm. She smiled and took the proffered arm. "Ready."

She'd been paired with none other than the infamous Derek for the walk down the aisle. One of Rigsby's groomsmen. He seemed nice enough, if not the most intellectually discerning person she'd ever met.

"Thanks for bailing me out last week, by the way," Derek whispered as they prepared to go through the church doors. "Wayne told me you smoothed things over with the cops for me."

He must have been blackout drunk if he didn't remember that Jane had bailed him out alone, Lisbon realized. It felt like too much trouble too explain, so she didn't correct him. "Not a problem."

"Seriously. That was really nice of you. I hope I didn't do anything too embarrassing like throw up in your car or something."

"My car's fine." She couldn't resist adding, "Next time, just try for a little moderation, won't you?" Big sister habits died hard.

He grinned at her. "Yes, ma'am."

The wedding coordinator gestured for them to go through the doors. They passed under the lintel and began the slow walk up the aisle.

God, why did the wedding march have to be so freaking slow? Lisbon thought to herself, trying not to grimace at the flash of camera lights in their direction. It made the thirty yards to the front of the church feel interminable. If she ever got married, she wasn't going to bother with this stupid one step, two step nonsense. She was just going to march up the aisle like a normal human being. And she wouldn't wear anything that she might trip on halfway down the aisle. She pasted on a smile and tried not to think about the nightmare in pink taffeta currently adorning her body.

She spied Jane at the altar, looking unfairly handsome in a new gray suit. Rigsby, next to him, looked excited, but nervous. Cho, as best man, stood on his other side, looking like he was on protective detail, scanning the crowd for threats.

Jane beamed at her, no doubt enjoying her humiliating parade down the aisle in the horrible pink dress. Then he winked at her, and she felt her smile turn real despite herself. She winked back.

"Dude," Derek whispered to her, scandalized. He eyed Jane at the end of the aisle. "Did that guy just wink at me?"

Lisbon, feeling mischievous, turned to him with a bright smile. "You know what? I think he did. He's totally into you. You should definitely talk to him at the reception, if you're interested."

"What—but—I'm not—not that there's anything wrong with—but I'm not—" Derek spluttered, eyeing Jane with horror. And then they'd reached the front of the church and it was time for them to part ways.

Lisbon took her place next to Iris. Yolanda and another of Rigsby's friends came next, and then Van Pelt came down the aisle, looking radiant. Lisbon smiled at the sight of her friend, pleased to see her so happy. She glanced at Rigsby, who was staring at Van Pelt, dumbstruck. So pretty much as usual, then, Lisbon smirked to herself. But with a happy ending this time, she thought with satisfaction. Finally.

Rigsby took Van Pelt's hands in his when she reached him, his own hands shaking slightly. He leaned forward and whispered something to Van Pelt, who laughed, a joyful sound that echoed through the church like a clear, bright bell. Rigsby relaxed a bit and smiled back, visibly relieved.

"Well," Jane said, clapping his hands together. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

"Oh, yeah," Rigsby said with enthusiasm. The guests laughed.

Lisbon listened to Jane's remarks with interest. With Jane as the officiant, at least the ceremony was guaranteed not to be boring.

"I've known Wayne and Grace a long time," Jane began. "The first day Grace joined our little team at the CBI, I took one look at Rigsby and knew he was a goner." More laughter.

"Thanks a lot, man," Rigsby said, chagrined.

"But for those of you who don't know me, you should know that despite how long they've known me, Grace and Wayne took a risk asking me to be the officiant. If they'd asked the advice of our lovely team leader, Teresa Lisbon—" here, a smirk at Lisbon—"she no doubt would have warned them off the idea. She'd have told them that I love to show off and stir up trouble, and did they really want to be worrying about what kind of hijinks I might get up to for my own amusement on their special day?"

Rigsby and Van Pelt started to look visibly alarmed by this lead in.

"And of course, all of that is true," Jane continued. "I really couldn't be relied upon not to pull some flashy trick like conjuring doves from thin air—" here, he spread his hands and two doves materialized as if from nowhere. The crowd gasped in appreciation. The doves flew gracefully upward and out an open window. "Or dazzle you with pyrotechnics—" he produced a single rose and tossed it straight into the air, where it burst into flame and multiplied into a dozen flowers of fire, which drifted down lazily, showering the bridal party with sparks but dying down into ash by the time the flames reached a height a couple feet above people's heads. "Or," he added, "hypnotizing Great Uncle Ernie into sitting on his hands until he manages to cure himself of the instinct to pinch the bridesmaids' bottoms." At this, everyone's heads swiveled to look at the unfortunate Great Uncle Ernie, who was indeed sitting on his hands, looking chagrined. Lisbon, who had met Great Uncle Ernie at the rehearsal dinner, felt Jane couldn't have chosen a more deserving target.

"But nonetheless," Jane said, once he'd secured the audience's attention again. "I'm glad Wayne and Grace took the risk. Because it gives me the opportunity to be a part of the celebration of the extraordinary love between these two kind, brave, and loyal souls. I've watched their relationship evolve over the years, and let me tell you, there is no more beautiful thing than seeing two people, despite every obstacle thrown their way, find true love with one another. So without further ado—" He turned to Rigsby.

"Do you, Wayne, swear you would kill and die for Grace, and do whatever it takes to keep her safe, no matter what?" A few shocked murmurs from the audience—Lisbon had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes. Of course Jane couldn't just recite the wedding vows like a normal person.

"I do," Rigsby said, his eyes locked on Grace.

"And more importantly," Jane went on. "Do you promise to make her feel loved and treasured every day, for the rest of your lives?"

"Absolutely," Rigsby said, his eyes not leaving Grace.

"To comfort her and buy her her favorite kind of ice cream when she's had a bad day?"

"Yes."

"To rub her back and stroke her hair when she's feeling sick or sad?"

"Of course."

"And do you also promise to try yoga at least one time, so you can say you at least tried it?"

Rigsby looked like he'd promise to spend the rest of his life dressed as a pink bunny rabbit if Van Pelt asked him to. He gazed at her adoringly. "I do."

"And do you promise not to try to murder anyone at the CBI to advance some nefarious plot of your own?" Jane continued.

Rigsby jerked his eyes away from Van Pelt and shot Jane an incredulous look. "Seriously, man?"

Van Pelt looked like she was going to be the next one to commit murder, and she was planning to start with Jane.

Jane shrugged. "Just checking."

He went on, still addressing Rigsby. "Do you also promise to marvel at your good luck when she argues with you, because she challenges you to consider things in a way you never would have imagined on your own?"

"Definitely," Rigsby said hoarsely, his eyes fixed on Van Pelt once again.

"Okay, then." Jane turned to Van Pelt. "Grace, your turn."

Van Pelt straightened, bracing herself for whatever insane interrogation Jane had decided to set her instead of normal wedding vows.

"Do you, Grace, promise to love Wayne despite his many flaws and failings, even when you want to kill him?" he began.

Van Pelt rolled her eyes. "I do."

"Do you promise to make him a better man by the example of your grace and kindness?"

Van Pelt blinked. "Uh. I guess so."

"Do you promise to make him eat vegetables once in a while for his own good, but also let him eat as many tacos as he wants on Taco Tuesday's at Guerrero's, because they make him so happy?"

She laughed. "I promise."

"Do you promise to protect his heart, which has been made fragile by all those years he spent desperately pining for you?"

Her eyes softened. "I do."

"Excellent. In that case…" he spread his hands out. "I now pronounce you man and wife. Rigsby, you may now kiss the bride…just like that time when you were hypnotized. Go ahead, really lay one on her."

Rigsby didn't need telling twice.

Xxx

Lisbon lurked behind one of the tall tables they'd set up in the reception hall while they waited for dinner to be served, keeping a wary eye out for interlopers. She was prepared to duck under the tablecloth if she saw Iris heading in her direction.

Cho ambled up to her, a beer in his hand. "Hey. Interesting ceremony, huh?"

"Yeah," she said, rolling her eyes. "Trust Jane to make a simple wedding ceremony into an opportunity to show off his strange skillset."

"I liked the vows," Cho said. "They offered some pretty interesting insights into Jane's concept of relationships, don't you think?"

"Oh…yeah," Lisbon said, blushing for some reason. Maybe it was because she suddenly couldn't get the vow about the hair stroking out of her head. "I guess."

"No way I'm letting him officiate at my wedding, though," Cho said. "He can be a groomsman. And if he can't keep quiet, I'll duct tape his mouth shut and make him sit next to my great-aunt Ji Su. He wouldn't be able to get a word in edgewise, in any case."

"Good call," Lisbon said, thinking about the words, 'Do you promise to kill and die for her?' Of course Jane's concept of love would encompass every extreme.

Cho took a swig of his beer. "Where is Jane, anyway?"

"Off impressing Rigsby's friends with more fireworks, I think," Lisbon said ruefully. "Where's Elise?"

Cho shrugged. "Talking to some lawyer about the new bill that just passed the California state legislature on tax code reform."

"Sounds thrilling," Lisbon commented, suppressing a shudder.

"Tell me about it." Cho took another swig of his beer. He gestured to the dining tables, where the servers had just laid out the first course. "Food's on. Let's go eat."

She tucked her arm into his and let him lead her over to their assigned table. "Okay. As long as you promise to hide me from Van Pelt's cousin."

Dinner wasn't so bad. She was seated next to Jane, with Cho and Elise on her other side, so she was well-protected from insipid conversation throughout the meal. But after the dinner plates were cleared away, Iris swooped in and insisted that Lisbon join the rest of the bridesmaids for a photo op next to the cake. Lisbon, not eager to have even more photographic evidence of herself in the horrid dress, couldn't see a way to get out of it. She shot Jane a desperate look, hoping he would take pity on her and cause some kind of well-timed distraction—possibly by setting something else on fire, if necessary—but he just grinned wickedly and sweetly asked Iris for a copy of the photographs. Shooting daggers at Jane for throwing her to the wolves, Lisbon reluctantly allowed Iris to drag her away from the table.

Lisbon spent the next twenty minutes skulking in the background, trying to edge out of the frame of every photo and bitterly regretting leaving her glass of champagne at the table. Stupid Jane. He'd promised she could have as much alcohol as necessary for self-defense measures. And then he'd just let her be kidnapped from right under his nose. He hadn't so much as lifted a finger to help her escape her oppressors. He hadn't even handed her the champagne so she could fortify herself for the long, brutal campaign in the trenches. Clearly, this was all his fault.

She finally managed to orchestrate her escape by claiming to need to speak to Van Pelt about something. Once she'd slunk away from the twittering flock in pink, she made a beeline for the bar. She secured another glass of champagne and downed half of it in one go. The stupid pink dress slipped down dangerously low in the front as she raised her arm to take another sip. Goddamn stupid taffeta. What was so great about strapless dresses, anyway? Was it really so hard to have two extra scraps of fabric to hold the damn thing up where it belonged? She yanked it upwards and scowled.

Derek appeared at her elbow. "Hey, Teresa," he said warmly. "Great party, huh?" He ordered a beer from the bartender.

"Yeah," Lisbon said grumpily. "Great."

"Listen, a few of us are gonna go mess up Rigsby's car," he said. "You know, shaving cream, soap, ribbons—the whole 'just married' bit. You want to come along?"

"Yeah, maybe," Lisbon said, thinking it would be a good place to hide from Iris. She frowned. Unless Iris was in on it. "Who else is going?" she asked suspiciously.

He shrugged. "Just some buddies from the fire department."

A bunch of rowdy guys, drunk and up to no good? That was her wheelhouse. Infinitely preferable to falling into Iris's clutches again. She downed the rest of her champagne and signaled for another. "I'm in."

Jane materialized at her side. "Teresa! Congratulations. I see you escaped."

"No thanks to you," she grumbled. "Some partner you are, abandoning me in my hour of need."

He raised his eyebrows. "A little overdramatic, don't you think? I knew you'd come out all right in the end. Besides, I'm sure all that female bonding was good for you."

"Teresa, you ready?" Derek asked from her other side. "We're meeting the others outside in five minutes."

Jane maneuvered himself closer to the bar, neatly wedging himself between her and Derek. "Another glass of champagne, please," he said to the bartender politely. Then he turned and clapped Derek on the shoulder. "Derek! My man. How ya doin'?"

Derek, recognizing him from the whole winking incident, looked terrified. Though in fairness, that could possibly have been due mainly to the earlier display of indoor fireworks. "I'm sorry—do I—I don't quite remember…"

Jane tsked. "Derek, what's this? Are you telling me you don't remember our special time together? The night of the bachelor party. Any of this ringing a bell?"

Derek swallowed. "Our…special time?"

"Yes, I felt we really bonded that night, don't you?" Jane said jovially. "I really saw a whole new side of you after I left the others to spend some quality time with you."

Derek went pale. "What did I-? But I'm…I know I am. Was it—a bet, or something?"

"Nope," Jane said cheerfully. "Pretty sure that was all you, big guy."

Derek backed away hastily. "Uh—maybe I'll see you later, Teresa," he mumbled, and beat a hasty retreat.

"See you, Derek." She toasted his retreating figure with her glass of champagne and moved to take another sip.

"Teresa, there you are!" Iris appeared on her other side and seized her wrist. Lisbon started. God—did the woman have training in stealth maneuvers? "Come on, I heard the groomsmen are going to decorate the getaway car. We have to join—maybe we can get some of their numbers!"

"Oh, God," Lisbon muttered under her breath, attempting to tug her wrist free to no avail. Iris had sunk her pink talons deep into the skin of Lisbon's wrist. She could try the Pavlovski maneuver to wrench her arm free, of course, but there was a risk she might break Iris's wrist in the process. She considered. Might be worth it, though. Just how close was Van Pelt to Iris, anyway? How mad would she be if her boss broke her cousin's wrist in the middle of her wedding reception?

"Iris, I'm terribly sorry," Jane said, leaning every charming inch of himself into Iris's personal space. "But Teresa promised me a dance, and I'm afraid it's time for me to collect. Can she catch up with you later?"

Iris blinked up at Jane, clearly suffering from the effects of inhaling a blast of Jane's charm dust at close range. "Oh," she said, smiling uncertainly. "Yes. Of course." She recovered herself a little and winked at Lisbon. "You two have fun out there," she said, giving Lisbon a knowing look.

"Oh, we will," Jane said, relieving Lisbon of her glass of champagne over her muffled protests. He abandoned his own glass at the bar, untouched. Without further fanfare, he threaded his fingers through hers and dragged her towards the dance floor. Lisbon, tripping over the hem of her ill-fitting dress, hastened to catch up.

Jane caught her and stepped smoothly towards her. "Well?" he said, drawing her into his arms. "Am I forgiven for 'abandoning you in your hour of need?'"

"I suppose," Lisbon said grudgingly as she fell into step with him. She slid her hand into his and put her other hand on his shoulder and they started to move together. "You took your time about the rescue operation, though. You could have stepped in during the damn senior prom photo shoot."

"It was too fun watching you plot your escape. You should have seen the look on your face." He chuckled. "You looked like you were about to start taking hostages."

She smacked him on the shoulder. "Jerk."

He grinned. "I can't wait to see the photos."

"I'm going to tell Van Pelt that if she lets Iris send you a single one, I'm putting her on guard duty at the capitol for a month," Lisbon muttered.

"Really, I'm having a hard time deciding which look I prefer—the angry princess, or the drunken bridesmaid at the bachelorette party," Jane mused. "It's a tough call. The look from the bachelorette party has a lot in its favor." He looked down at her affectionately. "You looked so cute, all pissed off and drunk from five glasses of wine."

Lisbon felt her face turn red. "Ha, ha."

"On the other hand, you do look good in pink," he said, leaning back a little and surveying her and the awful dress.

"Oh, shut up," she said irritably. "When Cho gets married, I'm going to tell him to put you in a pink kilt. We'll see who's laughing then."

"Perhaps a sarong?" Jane suggested. "They're supposed to be very comfortable."

Lisbon snorted. "Perfect. I'll bring my camera."

"I look forward to it."

"I hope he marries Elise," Lisbon said, still grumpy. "She's a good woman. She'd never put me in pink."

"Come now," Jane chided. "No more of that. There must be some part of this that isn't so awful for you."

"I'm glad I got to be there for Van Pelt and Rigsby," Lisbon acknowledged. "To be part of this important day in their lives. Even if I did have to wear this horrible dress."

"That's better," Jane said, satisfied. He twirled her, then spun her back in close. He smiled down at her, his eyes twinkling in that way she'd never quite grown immune to, even after eight years. "See? This is nice, isn't it?"

"What?" Lisbon said dazedly. Dammit, you were never supposed to inhale when the charm dust hit you full on like that.

"This," he said, nodding to their surroundings. "Attending a social event with no threat of imminent death or the need to arrest anyone for murder."

"Yeah," Lisbon said softly. "It is." As trying as Iris's company was, it was still a relief to finally not have the shadow of Red John looming over every aspect of their lives. To just…enjoy celebrating their friends' happiness, and each other's company.

Van Pelt, radiant with happiness, whirled by, led by her father in what looked like some kind of aggressive hybrid of a polka and the waltz. "Oh!" she said, beaming at them. "You guys look so good together! I'm so happy you guys decided to come as each other's dates. I was worried you wouldn't have enough people to talk to. I hope you're having a good time!"

Her father whirled her away before Jane and Lisbon had a chance to respond.

Jane and Lisbon froze for a second and stared after her, flummoxed. The comment about worrying about not having enough people to talk to was a strange one, given that practically half the CBI was in attendance. The other thing—well, that didn't bear thinking about too closely.

"Maybe she means people we actually enjoy talking to?" Lisbon wondered aloud.

"That must be it," Jane said, recovering himself and resuming the dance where they'd left off.

Was it her, or had he just pulled her a little closer?

A country song started playing. Jane shifted them into a two-step without missing a beat.

Lisbon, struggling to keep up, looked up at him, amazed. "Where the hell did you learn the two-step?"

He shrugged and twirled her again. "Lotta country bars on the carnie circuit."

"You were too young!" Lisbon accused.

He grinned wolfishly. "Only the carnie folk knew that. Nobody from the show was going to rat me out."

She shook her head, a smile pulling at one side of her mouth. "Incorrigible."

"While we're on the subject, how do you know the two-step?"

"I don't, really," Lisbon said ruefully. "I'm just following your lead."

"Nonsense, you're doing fine," he said. "And you obviously know the basics, at least. Confess—when did you learn it?"

Lisbon made a face. "On a really bad date," she admitted. "I was terrible at it."

"Sounds like the date was the one who was terrible at it," Jane remarked. "You seem like you're doing all right to me."

"You're just good at leading," she told him. "You're making it seem like I'm better at it than I really am."

"Oh, really? Well, let's see what you've got." He twisted her into sweetheart position, then spun her out and back in again.

Lisbon laughed in delight. "I feel like we should be wearing cowboy boots and big hats for this."

He grinned. "Anytime you want to two-step with me, my dear, just name the time and place."

"So I can pretend you're that mean, cold-hearted cowboy I used to worship from afar?" she teased.

His smile flickered. "Or just dance with me as me, if you like," he said, his voice neutral. "Ladies' choice."

Lisbon faltered, thrown a little by his reaction. Had she actually hurt his feelings? Surely Jane didn't—wasn't—

"Well," she said at last, moving infinitesimally closer to him. "He probably doesn't lead this well, so I think I'll stick with you."

He relaxed against her. "I see. You're only keeping me around for my dance skills, is that it?"

"Pretty much," she agreed.

"Well," he said. "I guess I'd better earn my keep." And dipped her.

"Jane!" she gasped, clutching at his arms.

He lifted her back up smoothly. "After all this time, you still don't trust me?"

"Sometimes," she said, getting her breath back. "But jeez—a little warning might be nice."

He rolled his eyes. "You don't warn a woman you're going to sweep her off her feet, Teresa. Kinda defeats the purpose."

The music changed again, saving her from the need to formulate a coherent response to such an outrageous statement.

Jane didn't let her go as the music transitioned to a slower song. In fact, he drew her in closer. What was he…oh, that felt nice. Lisbon tucked her head into the crook of his neck and decided not to worry about what Jane was up to. The sensation of his heart beating against her chest was too nice to bother worrying about anything else.

They danced in silence for a moment. Lisbon felt acutely conscious of the warmth of Jane's hand on her back. His fingers fell below the line of the strapless dress, heating her skin through the fabric, but his thumb brushed the bare skin between her shoulder blades. Lisbon tried to ignore this, but she couldn't help thinking that, however innocent, this was the most intimate touch she and Jane had ever shared. Which was…so not the right way to have phrased that thought, even to herself.

They danced on. Jane started—unconsciously?—stroking that small space between her shoulder blades with his thumb. A soft, gossamer caress. Lisbon bit back a moan.

She turned her suddenly flushed cheek into the shoulder of his jacket, hot and confused. What was happening? Why did this suddenly feel so real?

Had he just…rubbed his cheek against her hair?

Jane cleared his throat. "I've been thinking a lot, you know. Since everything went down with Red John, and the trial, and everything."

Lisbon nearly froze in place. With considerable effort, she forced her feet to continue moving with the music. It was harder than it should have been, given that it was a slow song. "What about?"

"About…what I want my life to look like, now that he's out of the picture." He took a deep breath. "Now that I don't have to worry about… about him taking anyone else away from me."

Lisbon's breath caught in her throat. She swallowed hard. She looked up at him, her gaze searching. "And what do you see? When you think about what you want your life to look like?"

Jane didn't meet her eyes. He raised the hand that had been on her back and reached out to trace his index finger along the line of her bare shoulder, then swept the same finger back slowly along her collarbone. Lisbon thought her heart might have stopped beating.

Then he abruptly came back to himself and determinedly put his hand on her back again. He clutched her a little closer this time. "This...this wasn't how I meant do this at all," he said, his voice a little shaky.

"Do what?" Lisbon said, dazed. He was stroking the skin between her shoulder blades with his thumb again, still swaying them back and forth. Good Lord, this was worse than charm dust during allergy season. She stared fixedly at the lapels of his suit and willed herself to stay upright.

"You see, Teresa," he said, his voice low and strange. He cradled her even closer. "Every man has his breaking point."

Lisbon, startled, looked up at him. Oh, boy. Was Jane choosing now to finally go off the deep end? That would explain the touching, she thought, her heart sinking. "Breaking point?"

"Yes. I had grand plans, you know. A nice outing in Napa, a walk among the vineyards, maybe a hot air balloon…"

He was babbling. Never a good sign. Her brow furrowed. "A hot air balloon?"

"I wasn't sure if you would like that," he explained. "But it was on the list of possibilities. I didn't want to rule it out."

"Jane," she said slowly. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I had grand plans," he repeated. "I was going to charm you. I was going to dazzle you with grand gestures. I was going to pull out all the stops to convince you to let me court you."

"Court me?" Lisbon said, flabbergasted.

"Yes. But it's all a moot point now. All my grand plans have been undone."

"…because every man has his breaking point?" Lisbon hazarded, still not completely sure she was following. The only thing she was really certain of was that her heart seemed to be beating about four times its normal rate.

"Exactly. Every man has his breaking point." Jane swept his finger along her shoulder again. "And it appears that mine is this ugly pink dress."

"Jane, are you…?" Lisbon whispered, ignoring the fact that the way he was so gently tracing his fingertip along his skin made her want to knock him down and bite into him. It was absolutely imperative that she stay focused. Because if this was some kind of joke, or trick—

He met her eyes. "I see you," he said simply. "When I think about my future. That's what I see. Just you." His voice shook. "And I don't know if you want that. And if you don't, that's okay, I'll—I'll understand." He took a deep breath. "But even if you don't, I'm hoping maybe you'll give me an opportunity to convince you. I'll take you to Napa, to the top of the Empire State Building, Everest—wherever you want to go. And I know I'm difficult and more trouble than I'm worth, but I'll be good to you, Teresa, I'll be so good to you. I'll love you and take care of you and I won't ask you to wear pink, even if you really do look good in it, despite the awful dress—"

"Jane," she interrupted. "Shut up." And she pulled him down to her by the lapels and kissed him in the middle of the dance floor in the most hideous pink dress she'd ever owned.

"Oh," he sighed into her mouth. "Oh, good. I really didn't want to climb Mount Everest."

"Climbing Mount Everest would be a stupid thing to do," she murmured back into his mouth. "Do you have any many people die every year trying to get to the summit?"

"A lot?" he ventured, claiming her mouth again.

"A lot," she agreed, kissing him back. Then she drew back, her eyes widening with sudden realization. "You were jealous!" she exclaimed.

Jane feigned innocence. "Jealous?"

"Of Mark," she said, a slow smile spreading over her face. "When you came to pick me up at the bachelorette party. You were jealous of Mark."

"The bartender?" Jane sniffed, as though a mere bartender was entirely beneath his notice. "I thought you were talking about Derek."

She grinned at him. "Well, I hear he is really good at flip cup."

"Woman," he growled, and pulled her closer.

Lisbon sighed happily and swayed with him. She must ask Van Pelt and Rigsby the name of the musician who'd recorded this particular piece of music. She thought it might be her new favorite song.

She turned her cheek into his shoulder. "I was afraid you were going to leave," she confessed to the fine wool of his suit. "After the trial. I thought you'd decide you were sick of murder and go off to live on a beach somewhere."

He rubbed his cheek against the top of her head. "Ah. Well, it's true, murder does get rather tiresome on occasion. On the other hand, I've found that spending the day with you, my dear, really never gets old." He paused. "So far, at least. Who knows? Maybe I'll finally weary of your company after another decade or so."

She lifted her head and smacked him on the shoulder. "Very funny."

He smiled down at her. "Did you buy that tea sampler for me?"

She bit her lip and nodded. "Just… in case you stopped by sometime."

He stroked his thumb along her jaw. "I'd like to stop by. Often."

"Okay," she said, her breath escaping her lungs somewhat shakily. "That—that'd be nice."

The song ended and the unmistakable tinny beat of an eighties hit began.

"Ooh, Teresa!" Iris was closing in on them, flapping her hands in Lisbon's direction. "We have to dance to this. They're playing the Electric Slide!"

Lisbon met Jane's eyes. "Want to get out of here?"

He squeezed her hand. "Most definitely."

They made their apologies to Iris, offered their congratulations yet again to Rigsby and Van Pelt, bade Cho and Elise good night, and made their escape.

The moment they got out of the building, Jane caught her up in his arms and kissed her again. "God, you have a great mouth," he groaned, teasing her lower lip.

She bit his lip in retaliation. "Yours isn't so bad, either."

He slid his hands over her shoulders, pulling her closer. "I love this dress," he said fervently. "It's so…shiny."

"Shut up about the damn dress," Lisbon growled. She started rifling through his pockets. "Where's my key card? You said you'd hold it for me."

"Right breast pocket," he said, his voice a little strangled. "Are we…parting ways for the evening?"

"No," she said firmly, liberating the key card and grabbing hold of his hand so he couldn't escape. "You're coming with me."

"Oh," Jane said, relieved. "In that case, if I may make a suggestion—my room's closer."

"We're going to my room," she stated unequivocally. "No way I'm walking out of your room in the morning wearing this damn dress."

"Lead the way," Jane said quickly, not inclined to waste time arguing the point.

Five minutes later, Lisbon breathed a sigh of relief and the infamous dress was nothing but a pink puddle on the floor.

Xxx

Later, Lisbon snuggled her way under the sheets and curled into his side. Jane put his arm around her and sighed in contentment. "It turned out to be a lovely wedding, didn't it?" he said happily. "I, for one, really enjoyed myself."

"It was nice," Lisbon agreed. "I liked the fireworks."

He grinned wickedly and traced his fingertip over her collarbone again. "Me, too," he said meaningfully.

She pinched him in the side. "Although I'm not sure that was as good as the part where you made Rigsby promise not to murder anyone as part of his wedding vows."

"Just wanted to make sure," he said, unrepentant. He shimmied down a little so he could kiss her shoulder, a part of her body for which he seemed to have recently developed an obsession. "So you weren't completely, one hundred percent bedazzled and amazed by the fireworks, eh?" He peppered her collarbone with kisses. "You're pretty tough to please. What's it going to take to impress you?"

She threaded her fingers through the curls at the base of his neck and brought his mouth closer. "You're supposed to be clever one. I have confidence you'll figure it out eventually."

"Ooh, a challenge," he said into her neck, delighted. "Excellent."

"Maybe next time you could start with setting that bridesmaid's dress on fire," Lisbon suggested, tightening her grip on the back of his neck.

"I don't know…that dress holds a lot of nostalgia for me," he said, finding a particularly sensitive spot behind her ear. "And you really do look good in pink, you know," he said, running his hand up her ribcage. "One might even say…irresistible."

"Uh-huh," she said, disbelieving, but arching into him nonetheless. "I still hate that dress, though."

"Don't knock the dress, Teresa," he said severely. "I have very fond memories of it. I thoroughly enjoyed taking it off you, for example."

She kissed him. "That was the best part for me, too."


End file.
